


Not Fair

by seemeinacrown



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x12, Dean's got it in for Claire, Dom/sub, Dreaming, F/M, HELL YEA, Season 11, Sorry but I need this, To Be Continued?, age gap, help me, so small, very slight dom/sub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:19:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8494978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seemeinacrown/pseuds/seemeinacrown
Summary: "Jesus, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he had to haul his thirty-and-over ass around this barely legal girl and act like everything was fine. That he had to act like he’d gotten plenty of pussy in the past weeks and wasn’t dying for something tight. That he didn’t have it in for the daughter of his best friend’s vessel."
Dean's got it in for Claire, but that's something that'll never happen--but he can pray, right? And maybe god actually answers prayers once in a while.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (We're assuming Claire is 18 or 19 here, so no underage. We don't fuck with that shit.) I guess this works as a one-shot, but also would be fun to continue. Feedback, as always, is appreciated and encouraged. Hope you're doing you.

Jesus, it wasn’t fair. 

It wasn’t fair that he had to haul his thirty-and-over ass around this barely legal girl and act like everything was fine. That he had to act like he’d gotten plenty of pussy in the past weeks and wasn’t dying for something tight. That he didn’t have it in for the daughter of his best friend’s vessel. 

It wasn’t fair that he had to sleep on the couch just a floor below her, dreaming of her in her own house. It was past midnight by now; Dean hadn’t been able to sleep, not with her right above him (but not in the way he wanted). Was she asleep? No, she was a teenager, she probably stayed up late. Masturbating? God, he could only hope. He wondered what she slept in. Something sexy? No, he knew her well enough to figure that she didn’t fuck with lacy shit. She was probably in old shorts, or those flannel pants—in any case, it didn’t matter. She would be sexy wearing anything to bed. 

Around 2:30 a.m., Dean finally fell asleep, tossing and turning, visions of undressing Claire Novak dancing in his head. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

The case was over too soon—‘shit, don’t think that Dean, it’s good it’s over, people are safe’—and Sam and Dean put South Dakota in the rearview mirror. The trip home was filled with almost nothing but thoughts of the lithe blonde girl he was only getting more and more distant from, and how he could somehow tell her how he felt, what he wanted to do with her, without getting arrested, or (worse) caught by Jody or Sam. That, on top of her actually accepting him as anyone other than a parental figure…The odds were against him. It wasn’t the end of the world. He’d never had trouble picking up women—real women—at bars when he was hankering for a good fuck. But he didn’t want a woman anymore, not for the time being. He wanted a girl, a girl to wrap her arms and legs around his body and let him take her for a fucking ride, let him take care of her, make her feel good, fucking make her scream. If he had to take her virginity—shit, he wouldn’t mind a bit. 

It pissed him off. He’d always had a bit of a thing for Claire, since he’d first met her. But she was too young then, and he hadn’t even let her cross his mind. Well, maybe for a hot second, but no more. Each time her saw her, it got harder, though, to keep her out of his head. The last time—when they’d settled her with Jody—he figured it would be the last. At least for a long time. He’d made his peace with it, put up a wall around the part of his brain that wanted to draw to her, and he’d managed for a good long time to keep her out. 

Then, suddenly, they were in her house, sitting at the dinner table with her, talking about her sister fucking, talking about condoms, and shit, if she wasn’t legal and inviting and absolutely forbidden. Off limits. 

But, god, she was fiesty. Passionate, strong, a fucking hunter. He’d had to tell her off multiple times that trip—she was a fighter, that was for sure—and shit if it didn’t turn him on to stare her down, put her in her place, to protect her. To fuck with Alex and get Claire to smile conspiratorially with him. He had to just just cover the front of his pants with his coat and walked away, dousing his brain with a cold shower. 

Once he and Sam were back at the bunker, had talked over a few beers and headed to bed, he’d actually laid looking at her number in his phone, thumb hovering over it, ready to fucking throw his life away and just take her in—but that wasn’t possible. Not even a situation. So he rolled over, got himself off to the thought of fucking her from behind, cleaned up, and fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later he couldn’t take it anymore, so he texted her. Just a “hey, wanna make sure you’re okay after everything,” but he couldn’t help but hope like a fucking child that she’d respond with the same desire he felt for her. 

She responded almost immediately—‘damn teenagers.’ “Everyone’s still kinda shaken up but we’re fine.”

“Well what about you? I didn’t ask about everyone.” ‘Goddammit, was that too forward? Why do you care? You’re an adult in her life, you’re just checking in. Everything is fucking fine.’ 

“I’m okay.” 

He looked at his phone, nodded, sighed, started typing. “That’s good, I’m gl—.”

“Lonely, though. You know.” 

Blood rushed to Dean’s face. There was no was in hell she meant—no. She didn’t. He needed to just walk away, ‘don’t take the fucking bait, Dean, you’re gonna fuck yourself up.’ 

“Lonely how? You’ve got Jody, and Alex, and you’ll make friends.” 

She didn’t respond for six minutes. He’d counted them each, hands over his face, except for the occasional peek at the clock. ‘God help me.’ 

“Well, like, you know. I don’t have a boyfriend. Something like that.” 

Dean shook his head in a desperate attempt to clear it. She was just venting—she trusted him. That was all this was. “I’m sorry to hear that. You’re a nice girl though, and I’m sure every boy around town is wishing they were with you. Things will turn up.” Including his own, goddamn self. 

“They’re too young.” 

He yanked in a breath like it was his first ever. ‘She’s fucking going there, right? She’s gotta be. Jesus.’ “Oh, I see. You looking for a sugar daddy? Isn’t there a nursing home down the road?” ‘Deflect, deflect, deflect.’ All the while hoping she wouldn’t. 

“Shut up. You know what I mean. I need a mature guy, more experienced. Guys my age are dicks, don’t know how to treat a girl.” 

‘I sure do.’ “Okay, well, find some twenty-something who does you right. Be careful though, yeah? Don’t go above thirty, not yet.”   
“What’s wrong with over thirty?” Dean was so busy praying to the ceiling above him that he didn’t notice her next texts until a minute after she sent them. “I hear they’re better. Better with girls…like you, you know?” 

“Like me?” He was fucking taken aback. Turned on and desperate, and taken aback. Was she really trying this? God, if she was, he was all over it, but there was no way he was risking so much in the way of friendship and relationships on a guess. But then she didn’t respond for ten minutes, and maybe, maybe he should’ve fucking guessed. ‘Did I piss her off?’ He tried again. “Hey, I’m not mad, Claire. Just asking.” 

“Like you, yeah.” 

Jesus. 

“Claire, are you hitting on me?” That was fine, right? Could play it off as ‘upset adult’ instead of ‘desperate boy.’ 

“Come on, Dean. You know you’re hot. You’d fuck yourself if you could.” 

Dean’s mind started doing a thing, buzzing and tilting things and making him angry and incredibly turned on, pissed, and…God. He was fucked. 

“Well thank you. But Claire, we’re family friends, you can’t—whatever you’re doing.” 

His phone rang almost immediately after the text delivered. Claire. He swallowed, slapped himself lightly, and picked up. 

“Claire—.” 

“Cut the shit, Dean. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you were looking at me that whole weekend you were here.” Her words were confident, but ever so slightly slurred. Angry, maybe even a little—desperate? Just like him. 

“Are you drunk? Claire, are you drinking?” 

“Stop worrying, I had like two beers with some friends. Now answer my question.” 

“You didn’t ask me anything.” Dean was fucking sweating. 

“Do. You. Want. Me.” 

“Don’t ask me that.” 

Claire groaned loudly. “Answer.” 

God, he loved and hated her at the same time. Fucking persistent, didn’t give up—.

“Dean, please.” Her voice was softer now, gentle, pleading. 

“Yes.” He could barely hear himself through the rush of blood in his ears as he whispered it, closing his eyes and hoping the next thing he would hear wouldn’t be Jody screaming at his sorry ass. 

“Good.” 

He swallowed. “Yeah?” He was fucking breathless. 

“Come here again.” 

“What?” 

“Come to South Dakota. We can…hang out.” 

“Claire, are you fucking serious?” 

“You want me, right?” 

“Well, yeah, but—come on, you know this can’t happen, I could be your fucking father, and, Jody, Sam—Claire, no—.” 

“Are you fucking for real? Don’t pull this shit with me, okay? You’ve done a bajillion crazy things, making me happy is fucking nothing, especially if you want it too. I’m just asking for a couple days, okay?” She’d started crying. “Please? I—you care about me, right?” 

Dean’s eyes flow open and he sighed at the same time. “Claire, you know I fucking do, but that’s—that’s why, okay?” 

“I get it. I’ll find someone else.” She sniffled, and he could practically hear her face hardening through the phone. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.” The call ended. 

“Jesus CHRIST,” Dean screamed, clutching his phone. He had her, he fucking had what he wanted, but there was no way. No. He couldn’t. It wasn’t even an option. And yet—.

“Dean?” Sam’s head was in the doorway, eyes wide. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

‘Shit, shit, be cool, lie, lie, lie.’ “Yeah Sammy, sorry. I, uh—I’m gonna take a few days, is that alright? Visit an old friend?”

“I—don’t lie to me, Dean.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and faked a laugh. “Jesus, Sammy, seriously. I’m fine.” 

Sam nodded slowly. “Well, I mean, yeah, we don’t have much going on. I can come with—.”

“Nah, don’t think you want to. When I say ‘old friend,’ I mean…”

“Oh. Yeah, count me out.” Sam made a small show of gagging. “That explains the yelling. Have a nice phone call?” He winked and gestured at the phone.   
“Ah, fuck Sammy, come on. Get the fuck outta here. I’ll see you Tuesday, bitch.” 

Sam smiled and nodded. “Yeah, see you then. Drive safe.” 

Dean waited for Sam’s footsteps to fade, then called Claire, hurrying to pack a bag at the same time before he lost his courage. 

“Hello?” 

“Claire.” 

“Dean, what—?” 

“I’m coming, okay. I’ll be on the road in twenty. But you have to be serious. About this. You’re serious?” 

He could’ve sworn he heard her moan over the phone. “Yes, please, god. So serious. Thank you, Dean.”


End file.
